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Rokala Stonebash
Early Life Deep within the dark, damp heart of the Black Morass, which held no claim to anything but wild beasts and crazed cultists, new life was flourishing. Born of Gharka, a cruel and cunning warlock, and her husband Grol'dar, a renowned blacksmith, Rokala's future was set in stone. She would follow in their footsteps, and when she was old enough to fight, she would join in the war against the humans... However, this was not her destiny. For a great many reasons, Gharka and Grol'dar placed the responsibility of raising Rokala on the shoulders of their Frostwolf friends, Tovosh and Golar. Exiled from the Horde and unable to return to their dying homeworld, they readily accepted Rokala as their own daughter and departed with the rest of their clan, traveling north in search of a safe home to call their own. Rokala was a shy and sensitive child who could always be trusted not to wander far from home. Once in a blue moon, she would join Tovosh and Golar on a hunt, and that was about it. While they hunted down the family's next meal, she was tasked with harvesting any herbs she could find in the frigid mountains. The wind was ice-cold, an unflinching attack on every inch of bare skin... But inside their hut, the air was warm, and thick with laughter. Nobody would have denied that life up in the Alterac Mountains was harsh and lonesome, but she had never been allowed to feel that way. In spite of everything, the three of them had carved out a meager, but happy existence. The Search For Truth If this was a story, then it wouldn't be so hard to imagine how Rokala's would end. She narrowly escaped a cruel and pointless war, and after a lovely childhood spent in the care of her foster fathers, she became an adult and began her own life. Regardless of the path she took, she would use all they had taught her, bring honor to her family, and die a peaceful death, surrounded by all her loved ones... ...But, this was no story. And there was a wrench thrown into Tovosh and Golar's carefully coordinated efforts to give her a peaceful life. It was a dark, booming cloud that held sway over her entire being. When it struck, Rokala was rendered voiceless, a stone statue on her bed, her eyes wide and wet, her body alternately hot and cold, her mind tormented by unanswered questions. The only thing that had stopped her from being truly happy, Rokala thought, were the people who had given life to her. Gharka and Grol'dar. Tovosh was a natural-born speaker, and he captured her heart and mind with sanitized stories of the world he had left behind. In those stories, he spoke often of his childhood friends. They were clever and creative! Bold and beautiful! Rokala loved life with her fathers, but . . . If Gharka and Grol'dar were so great, why did they leave her? Why? After much poking and prodding on her part, Golar admitted that they had left to fight A WAR... But what was that, anyways? She only had the most cursory understanding of what A WAR was, but some of the other children in the village knew better. A WAR was where your parents or maybe your older brothers and sisters went off to. When will they come back? We don't know. What if... oh, what if they didn't come back? What if they were lost, and couldn't find their way home? What if they were DEAD? Thoughts like that tormented her day after day, and she began to lash out at those closest to her. It was after a spectacularly nasty (and one-sided) shouting match with her fathers, as she cried into her pillow, that everything slid into place for her. If Gharka and Grol'dar were out there somewhere . . . She would find them, and bring them home. WAR or no WAR. High off the idea of stopping A WAR all by herself, she quickly packed a bag and slipped out of her window without a sound. And then, she ran. Rokala ran from the place she had called home for eight years, and she didn't look back. It wasn't until a good few hours later that Rokala would look back, and what she saw chilled her to her core, because she had no idea what she was seeing. There was nothing but an endless expanse of snow and ice, a land she knew had to be the Alterac mountains... But where was she, really? In the end, the idea of what might happen if she came home (could she?) frightened her more than the idea of being lost. Only when night fell did she collapse, dirty and bruised all over. The howling wind laughed and mocked her with its alien voices: That's the best you can do?! No wonder they never came back! Just die! Tears froze on her face as the snow blanketed her and she begged for somebody, anybody to help her. Having rode out at once from the moment they realized she was missing, Tovosh and Golar were drawn towards a bright light in the middle of the night . . . But nothing could have prepared them for what they were about to see. A ring of fire raged across the ground, devouring anything in its path, and at the center of it all: Their daughter. The fire would only begin to dim and flicker after they reassured her time and time again that they weren't upset with her, never had been and never would be. Curled up among the embers, Rokala was shaken, but more or less unscathed. On the long ride home, they told her everything. They told her of the bloody years leading up to the construction of the Dark Portal, and how willingly her parents had drank the blood of demons and slaughtered anyone that stood in their way. It broke her heart, but it felt right, too. She felt hollowed out, but cleansed, and knew she could rebuild herself with their help. The rest of Rokala's childhood passed peacefully and uneventfully. Word of her exploits had spread across the village, and the rest of the clan no longer looked upon the timid orc with pity and concern; instead, she was given the same respect as any other shaman. Rokala began her training, and as she communed with the elements, she began to come out of her shell little by little. She had shed her childhood insecurities, and blossomed into a confident, independant young woman. Om'riggor Rokala's heart had not stopped pounding since the day of her Om'riggor dawned. This was her one-way ticket to adulthood, but in the weeks leading up to it, the Om'riggor had become something else entirely for her. She had become fixated on the idea that, by completing it, could prove that she had overcome all the faults and fears from her childhood. And now, Rokala stood before the gigantic bear she had tracked all the way back to its cave. Her axe was a broken, worthless mess of steel. Her cheeks burned from the cold wind. And her heart was set. The bear was almost certainly dying, but that wouldn't stop it from ripping her to shreds, if she gave it the chance. An Om'riggor was meant to be done alone, but Rokala knew better than that. She had never truly been alone since that night in the mountains. As Rokala lunged out at the beast, she closed her eyes, cast her mind out to the Elemental Plane, and abandoned her fate to pure chance. And what collided with the bear's belly wasn't her flesh and blood fist, but a jagged, superheated amalgamation of rocks, driven forward by borrowed strength. She struck at the bear, again and again, until she was sure it was dead. That night, as the bear's blood dried on her face and her heart began to settle, the clan welcomed her as an adult, and granted her a surname: Stonebash. Joining The Horde Life in Alterac was slow and steady. Rokala would often roam the surrounding mountains with Amaukwa, her canine companion, collecting and categorizing the sparse plants. Within the wooden walls of the village, she continued to speak with the elements, and practice the technique for which she was named. They had brought another child into the family (a baby boy, Marud), and she had fallen in love with him at once. Her life was peaceful, and filled with life and laughter and love, so what in the world was wrong? She knew. Tovosh and Golar did not want anything to change, ever. And she was a creature of change. Thrall's words spoke to her very soul, but she still did not leave the mountains. Golar had been badly injured in a hunting accident, and she had stayed behind to care for him... But the idea never left her mind. Rumors began to spread of dwarves who foolishly thought the mountains to be their ancestral home and who intended to take it by force. Rokala, who both sensed a great opportunity and refused to see any harm come to her loved ones, managed to convince them that they would be much safer in the new lands claimed by Thrall and his Horde. Reluctantly, they uprooted their lives, crossed the Great Sea, and settled in the rugged land of Durotar. And then, he had dared to show his face. There was no letter, no messenger, no indication at all that this... ghost, this spirit of a man she had long since thought dead, would show up on their doorstep... But, here he was. Tovosh and Golar had begged and pleaded with him, had insisted that he take a step back and let her process this. She learned in a matter of minutes that there was no reasoning with this smug bastard. Grol'dar demanded that she call him 'father', but how could she, when she barely recognized or respected this man, and the two who had raised her were right there? Everything boiled over when, over dinner, Grol'dar declared that Rokala would, of course, be going to live with him. When dawn rose, Rokala and Amaukwa were already flying back across the sea. Back to the Eastern Kingdoms. She was running from her problems, she knew this (old habits die hard), but it couldn't be helped. Rather than thinking of the future, she opted to live in the moment. While she may go to visit her family every once in a while, Rokala is most often seen traveling in the Eastern Kingdoms and aiding the Forsaken, who she deeply empathizes with. Trivia * In her youth, Rokala tried her hand at blacksmithing, in an attempt to be closer to her former father, but she had no real passion for it. While spending time in Forsaken lands, she discovered the art of alchemy, which captured her interest at once. * Amaukwa is speculated to mean 'breath of the moon' in Orcish. * If you see me in-game, feel free to ask me questions, like why I decided to write such a long history, or just say hi!